


Legend of Krys: Before the Adventure

by AnnabethBlack



Category: Drawfee RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Bad JRPG, Cousins, Depression, Fronklin, Gen, Healing, Hurt, We're sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 09:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14615190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnabethBlack/pseuds/AnnabethBlack
Summary: First his dad abandoned them, now his brother has run away. Krys has been abandoned by all of the men in his life bar one: his ten year old cousin Fronklin. Fronklin, who idolises Krys, is now tasked with the impossible: getting Krys' mojo back before the plot of the WORST JRPG begins.





	Legend of Krys: Before the Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Sir Tapington from the Drawfee Discord for giving me this OC to play with.

Krys woke up from his bed bleary eyed.Lifting his head from the pillow he looked over to the other bed in his room but, as always, it was empty. Lucieniosaurus had run away two years ago yet Krys still had a hard time believing it. It hurt to know that not even he could make his brother’s life happy enough to stay at home, even though Krys had tried real hard to pick up Lucie’s spirits. What hurt more was that Lucie was not the only one to leave. Only a few months later his dad had gone to pick up a new car and never returned. Krys liked to believe his father was hunting down Lucie but who knew for certain where his old man truly was? No one that Krys knew for sure.

With a sigh Krys rest his head back on the pillow and rolled over to face the wall. 

“Krys! Come downstairs please!” The shout from his mother downstairs made Krys groan.

In an attempt to be an obedient son, Krys dragged himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His long blonde hair, usually spiked up in open defiance of gravity, drooped in to his dull eyes. His skin had lost its tan where he had stayed inside under the duvet for so long, causing Krys to look ill. As his toes touched the cool floor they were instantly attacked by the ferocious yet sloppy tongue of Chapman, the corgi-mix dog that so loyally stayed by Krys’ side. 

“Heya buddy.” Krys reached down to scratch behind his ears. 

Chapman barked happily by way of greeting before padding off downstairs for breakfast. 

Krys sat on the edge of his bed for a moment longer, rubbing his eyes whilst the dizziness passed. With each twist of his fists a wave seemed to crash over Krys, pushing him further and further back towards the pillow.

“Krys! Now please!” His mom yelled up again.

“I’m just getting dressed!” Krys shouted back.

He wasn’t getting dressed though. Krys did not want to get dressed. Instead he flopped back down into bed and closed his eyes. Although he didn’t say anything out loud, Krys was wishing very hard that when he opened his eyes Lucieniosaurus would be there. 

Maybe he had fallen back asleep. Maybe he had zoned out in childhood memories. Either way, Krys wasn’t entirely sure what was happening when he felt a sharp finger prodding his leg. Without opening his eyes Krys began to swat at the finger as he knew full well his mother would never wake him up in such a way. Whatever it was he missed and received another two sharp jabs in return.

“Stoooop.” Krys moaned, trying to scoot away yet the pokes kept coming.

After a particularly sharp prod Krys shot up out of bed. Once his eyes had adjusted to the change in light Krys saw that he had not been poked by a finger but by a sword. At the end of the sword was a familiar blonde kid in a blue shirt and denim shorts. He wasn’t wearing any shoes and had two daggers tucked between the toes on each feet. 

“Fronklin, leave me alone.” Krys grumbled, rubbing his eyes once more.

“No. You’re mom told you to get up.” Fronklin went to jab Krys again but he rolled out of the way in time.

“So? Just leave.” Krys grabbed his duvet and pulled it off of the bed as he headed towards the closet.

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” Fronklin lunged at Krys with his sword.

With a irritated yell Krys whirled around and grabbed Fronklin’s wrist with a single hand. With the other Krys punched the inside of Fronklin’s elbow so he would drop the sword and then slapped the boy upside the head for good measure before using all of his force to push Fronklin as far away from him as possible. Snatching the sword up, Krys pointed the tip at Fronklin and growled.

“I said leave me  _ alone _ .”

“You fool!” Fronklin cackled. “You think I only fight with a single sword?”

With a flick of one foot followed by the other, Fronklin flipped up the daggers into the air and clumsily caught the handles. The air was filled with the warbled scream of Fronklin’s battle cry as the lanky child threw his entire body at Krys. One dagger slid off of Krys’ shoulder, leaving a thin trail of blood. The other was brushed away with a rap of the stolen sword. Krys sucked in air through his teeth as his shoulder began to sting but Fronklin had already thrown himself  forwards for another attack leaving Krys no time to assess his wound.

As Fronklin lunged again Krys spun out of the way. With a swift kick to the back of the knees Fronklin continued staggering forward into a wall. One of the daggers was stuck fast between two bricks so Fronklin abandoned it alongside his composure, now slashing the air wildly and blindly with the remaining dagger. 

“Cut it out!” Krys grunted, diving to the floor to avoid another slice.

“No! OW!” Fronklin cried out as Krys kicked up from the floor, knocking the second dagger from his hand.

Krys took the opportunity to grab Fronklin around the knees. With a single tug Fronklin came crashing down next to and on top of Krys. Several minutes if grappling later brought the fight to its conclusion where Krys had Fronklin in a full body lock.

“You are, by far, the most annoying cousin in the world.” Krys grunted, tightening the arm around Fronklin’s throat as his cousin attempted to squirm away.

“ _ It’s backwards day _ .” Fronklin rasped, desperately stretching his toes towards a fallen dagger just out of reach.

“Backwards day…” Krys released Fronklin as memories washed over him.

Fronklin threw himself forwards away from Krys, coughing and spluttering as he gasped for more air. For his part, Krys remained motionless, eyes glossy with memories of the last backwards day he had experienced with both Lucie and Fronklin. Whilst his cousin drowned in nostalgia, Fronklin scrambled around to retrieve his weapons, tucking his daggers back between his toes. 

“Yeah, dummy, backwards day so let’s get downstairs so we can disobey your mom.” Fronklin stood up straight and brushed himself off.

“I dont want to.” Krys muttered, staring back at his bed.

“That’s the spirit!” Fronklin grinned.

 

Several minutes later both boys were downstairs. Fronklin had forced a moody Krys into the cupboard and locked him in until Krys had gotten dressed. Despite his best efforts to resist, Krys had eventually donned a pair of brown shorts he had owned for years that now only just fit and a baggy orange t-shirt that may have been his father's. Whilst this had given Fronklin the desired result of a fully clothed Krys, there was an unforeseen consequence: routine kicks to the ankle when no one was looking. Although Krys took out his frustration on his younger cousin there wasn't that much resentment there so the kicks weren’t hard. In fact Krys felt rather refreshed in clean clothes and shoving food into his stomach made him feel all the more better.

In the kitchen two identical women stood chatting and cooking. They were the same height, had the same hourglass figure, and the same tone and features from skin color to eye color all the way down to hair color. They even wore the same outfit although Krys’s mom wore a pink dress versus Fronklin’s mom who wore a purple one in the exact same style. When they noticed their sons walk into the kitchen both women put their cooking down at the same time and smiled as their boys sat down at the table. Breakfast had already been served.

“Okay boys, you two can play around the village while we go to town but don’t go into the fields outside and make sure Champan stays in the house.” Krys’ mom told the pair sternly as she picked up her bag.

“We’ll be home by sundown so stay out of trouble, okay?” Fronklin’s mom gave her son a pointed look.

“We will.” The boys chimed innocently.

Once their mothers had left Krys and Fronklin exchanged a look. On the one side, Fronklin beamed. His eyes had glistened over with the excitement as his mind raced with ideas for the opportunity presented to him. Beside him Krys was more reserved, doubt adding to the weight anchoring him to the seat at the table.

“We have three missions for today: One, get in trouble. Two, leave the village. Three, bring the dog with us. Is he really named Chapman though?” Fronklin began to bounce on his chair as he spoke.

“Yeah. Mom named him.” Krys looked down as he pushed the tiny remnants of his breakfast around with a fork.

“No,” Fronklin spun Krys around in his seat and grabbed him by both shoulders. “Do not abandon me on this! Krys, it’s  _ Backwards Day _ . Do you know what that means?”

Krys opened his mouth to speak but Fronklin cut him off.

“It means we do the opposite of what we’re told! It means that today we are  _ brothers _ , not just mere cousins. We work together to disobey orders because it is fun, dammit! So start moping around because we aren’t going to take Champion on a walk in the field outside.” Fronklin shook Krys slightly for effect.

“His name is Chapman.” Krys corrected Fronklin solemnly as he slid off the chair to go fetch Chapman’s leash.

“That’s the spirit!” Fronklin cheered.

Krys knelt on the floor and stroked Chapman’s fluffy head once he had attached the leash. Chapman barked happily and licked Krys’ face, causing his hair to stick up more so than usual as dog slobber cemented into the golden strands. The simple, pure gesture made Krys smile briefly before resting his head on Chapman’s. Without this dog he would have nothing and Krys felt an aching in his chest at the thought of taking Chapman on their dangerous adventure.

“Woah, can I have this?” Fronklin asked from across the room.

Krys looked up to see Fronklin staring wide-eyed at a sword mounted on the wall. It was huge, probably the size of Krys himself. The broadsword was a creation of Krys’ father spanning back to his blacksmith days as a youth. It was special in so many ways: from the notches and lumps that gave the edges a unique method of damage, to the candy cane grip accompanied by an awesome chain which Krys did not know the purpose of. That sword was a point of pride for Krys and a beacon of hope that maybe his father would return for it.

“No.” Krys frowned, picking up his pet. 

“Fine. What about these?” Fronklin held up several knives from the kitchen.

“Sure.” Krys shrugged, happy that his cousin had dropped something straight away for once. 

“One day I’ll replace all these with swords but knives will do for now.” Fronklin said but Krys wasn’t really listening.

 

Once they were outside Krys felt the force of a tidal wave crash down over him. In reality there was nothing but a light breeze yet Krys felt like sinking to the ground. 

“Come on, I have something to do before we go out into the field.” Fronklin was already several steps ahead of Krys.

Krys looked from Fronklin down to Chapman. His canine companion barked and wagged his tail in a display of eagerness to get going. It was the motivation Krys needed to take those steps to follow Fronklin. If Chapman was enjoying himself then maybe Krys would too.

“Where are we going?” Krys hurried to follow his cousin.

“The girl who lives opposite you is a cutie and I want to show her my knives.” Fronklin revealed with the smuggest of grins.

“Is that really necessary?” Krys pouted.

“Krys, all you do is moan and grumble,” Fronklin observed, getting grumpy himself. “What happened?”

“It’s big kid stuff. You wouldn’t understand.” Krys shoved both hands in his pockets even though it made holding Chapman’s lead awkward. He looked down at the floor, kicking his legs out as he walked to scuff up his leather boots with clumps of dirt. 

“Try me.” Fronklin stopped walking and folded his arms.

“I- I don’t want to talk about it.”  Krys scowled and tugged on Chapman’s lead to pull his pup away from a garbage can.

“Will you just shut up and tell me? What am I gonna do?  _ Laugh _ ?  _ Tease you _ ? Com’on Krys! No one can help you get better if you don’t at least  _ talk _ about it!” Fronklin threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Shut up.” Krys tried to carry on walking but Fronklin grabbed him by the shoulders and forced Krys to look at him.

“Hey, do you remember last opposite day? You and Lucie came over and we went climbing the tree in my backyard but I got caught on a branch and cut my leg up? We didn’t tell our moms and then it got infected and I couldn’t walk then I got that fever and nearly  _ DIED _ ? If we had just told my mom in the first place she could have cleaned the cut and I wouldn’t have been stuck in bed for like a whole year.” Fronklin reminded him.

“It was six weeks.” Krys corrected his cousin begrudgingly. 

“ _ YOU ARE MISSING THE POINT _ !” Fronklin smacked Krys upside the head. “If we had told my mom I would have been grounded for like a week and wouldn’t have nearly  _ died _ . Lesson learned: sometimes you have to talk when you really don’t want to so you can get better. So. Talk.” 

Krys pushed Fronklin away from him and walked a few steps away. Chapman trotted over to Krys and rubbed his furry head in to the back of Krys knee. As he scratched his dog’s head, Krys took in a few deep breaths of fresh air. The breeze blew through the trees and in to his face, causing wisps of blonde hair to stand tall in the wind. Running a hand across his head, Krys felt the greasy strands between his fingers. It was disgusting and he hated it. He hated his hair and he hated how he felt all the time. Being miserable was awful. Staying indoors all the time made Krys feel icky. The fresh air made him feel relaxed and at home. Outside was where he belonged, not curled up in bed like a common house cat. 

“My dad left us... Lucie left us… but my mom doesn’t even care. She just carries on as if they were never there in the first place. It’s as if she were a robot or something! They are gone and she just adjusts our dialogue to ignore their absence! Maybe she’s why they left, you know? But why didn’t they just leave  _ her _ ? Why did they leave me as well? What did I do? All I ever did was love them both and I tried so hard to make things better for Lucie, especially after Dad left, and it was all for nothing! And now I can’t sleep because maybe it wasn’t mom after all? Maybe it was me and I will never know because they’re- stupid- stupid - gone!” 

Tears spilled over Krys’s cheeks. He fell to his knees and started pounding the dirt with clenched fists, sending streams of soil and blades of grass flying through the air as he just screamed as loud as his lungs would let him. It felt like his innards were on fire but Krys needed to release all of the pent up emotion he had been hoarding for weeks now. The force of his yell made it feel like someone had massaged the inside of his throat with sandpaper and shoved a big old bouncy ball in his esophagus. But Krys sobbed through the pain, hitting and hurting and hoping that his ten year-old cousin would be able to fix it all when he was done.


End file.
